


Black Heart

by Zenmi



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bad Albus Dumbledore, Dark Harry Potter, Dark Magic, Gen, Good Bellatrix Black Lestrange, Sirius Black Free from Azkaban, Sirius Black Raises Harry Potter, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:27:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24215149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zenmi/pseuds/Zenmi
Summary: After realising that Dumbledore won't raise a single finger to help him prove his innocence and get out of Azkaban, Sirius and his semi-insane cousin Bellatrix make use of an ancient ritual to gain their freedom back.Sirius is motivated by the thought of little Harry being forced to live with the appalling Dursleys and is determined to get him out of there.Together with Bella he does exactly that but something goes horribly wrong.
Relationships: Albus Dumbledore & Gellert Grindelwald, Bellatrix Black Lestrange & Harry Potter, Sirius Black & Bellatrix Black Lestrange, Sirius Black & Harry Potter
Comments: 14
Kudos: 178





	1. Hope in a Dark and Lonely World

**Author's Note:**

> English isn't my native language, so please excuse any stupid mistakes I missed :)

**15\. November 1981**

Somewhere in the North Sea, far away from civilization, Azkaban lies, containing some of the most dangerous wizards; some of them actual geniuses, others simply ruthless brutes, most of them crazy. 

And in their midst, drained by the suffocating presence of the dementors guarding the prison, one Sirius Black sits gloomily in his cell contemplating life and death and everything in between. Anything is better than being faced with this reality — being imprisoned for a crime he didn’t commit, getting no trial, constantly worrying about what would happen to his godson without him, having to listen to the imprisoned Death Eaters’ malicious joy about him, the only virtuous Black — a Gryffindor — being thrown into Azkaban.… The list goes on and on.

And so his mind wanders. He tries his best to think about happy things, to get lost in his dearest memories but every so often horrid thoughts about the Potters would still invade his mind.

Sirius did not, he did not betray his best friends, who he had been absolutely loyal to, no matter what everyone seems to accuse him of. He knew them for such a long time, James and him used to be inseparable, always already coming up with their next big prank. And Lily — she was soon integrated into their little group, always so nice and humorous and the perfect match for his best friend. Along with Remus and Peter, they’ve spent great times together, in school and afterwards when they all built their own lives but still made time for and were there for each other.

Oh, to be young again. To have your only troubles being late for class or forgetting about a date. Instead, Sirius is here now, at 22, locked up in a small cell and shivering from cold and hunger. ‘Where did it all go wrong? How could they possibly accuse _him_ of selling out his friends, hell, his family?’

Ohh, that sneaky Peter Pettigrew must have given them a convincing show in his animagus form. How ironic: The traitor shows his true self to several witnesses, what a rat he really is, but no one can actually connect the dots.

He still can’t believe that Peter, whom they had welcomed into their group, protected from bullies, been friends with for _years_ , had actually been so ruthless — or actually, such a coward — to give away the Potters’ location. 

But still, how could the public think Sirius to be capable of such an act? Sure, as far as everyone knew he was the family’s secret-keeper but it was also known that he had lived with James, as his brother, since he was 16. When he ran away from home and got disowned by his family, the Potters had taken him in, treated him as their second son. The Potters who were as light as could be. Sirius being disowned by his considered darker family. Surely everyone saw the obvious, that he would never join the Dark Lord. 

But no. They didn’t. Not even a trial was held for him, what a farce. It’s as if someone really wanted to get rid of the young man and utilized this perfect opportunity to promptly turn the public against him. 

But he didn’t have such enemies — not that he knew of. Of course, he had his fair share of teenage rivalries at Hogwarts, but he didn’t believe anyone would actually try to get him locked up in Azkaban, not even Snape. Or would he?

No, he certainly wouldn’t. And these speculations are meaningless anyway. As long as Sirius is in here, what could he possibly do? Send them a strongly worded letter? Threats about what he would do to them when he finally got out of Azkaban as an old man? No, that’s not an option. It’s not even clear if he would _ever_ be able to live a normal life again — what if they decided to just let him rot in here and didn’t even bother to tell him about their verdict, so that everyday he would wake up with the hope of being released, of seeing the sun again, of seeing _Harry_ again, only to have it be crushed. Day after day. 

‘Harry… he is going to grow up without parents, with this _burden_ on his shoulders,  
without even knowing I exist.’

Because who would tell the saviour of the Light that his own godfather caused his parents’ death, no less their _murder_ by the Dark Lord. Yeah, right.

At least Dumbledore and the Order will know what to do. They are competent, they’ll take care of him, especially Remus. 

Speaking of Dumbledore… Sirius hadn't heard from him since he was detained one — no, two — weeks ago (time flows strangely when you’re surrounded by Dementors; Sirius really doesn’t trust his own judgement here). The young man thought the headmaster would have at least sent a letter or visited Azkaban personally to tell him about the situation outside, about what could be done to get Sirius out of this place. For Merlin’s sake, he’s _Dumbledore_! 

Surely there are _some_ strings he could have pulled, _some_ politicians he could have bribed. It wouldn’t have been the first time anyway. His continued silence is highly worrying — the man couldn’t possibly believe that nonsense, that Sirius is indeed guilty. 

In the past, the headmaster of Hogwarts often enough turned a blind eye on whatever shenanigans the Marauders had pulled. Maybe even a few times too often, Sirius concedes in retrospect. But to completely discard him here is not something that he would have expected. Never. 

Dumbledore had always had this grandfatherly air about him, and it made you want to trust him, confide in him. The way his eyes always twinkled behind his half-moon glasses, like he would never ever wish something bad on anyone. When Sirius ran away from his family, Dumbledore had taken him to his office, they’ve had a long talk and afterwards it seemed like the world was already a bit more alright again. 

But now… he is in a high security prison among murderers and psychopaths and Dumbledore is out there, free, with his connections and a seat on the Wizengamot. He is well respected and influential, so why has nothing _happened_ yet?

###

**20\. December 1982**

This uncertainty, that’s the worst. Not knowing if someone would ever try to get him out or at least grant him the possibility to stand trial. At this point Sirius isn’t even sure any more how much time has passed since the Aurors came, stunned him and transported him to the island, all the while sneering and showing their schadenfreude at arresting another one of the Dark Lord’s servants. He had stopped counting the days after hitting the half-a-year-mark. It was too depressing. 

Especially in addition to the dementors’ continuous presence, their aura spread everywhere in Azkaban with no nook or cranny untainted. It weighs heavy on your mind, sucking you down, back to your worst moments and fears, forcing you to relive them with no chance of changing anything, of doing better this time. It’s _hell_. 

And after only a few days it starts really getting to you. Because at first there was still hope: Hope that Dumbledore would advocate for Sirius, stand up for him, that someone would question his motives. Hope that he wouldn’t be forgotten.

But after such a long time it’s hard to hold on to that. It is easier to just succumb to the misery, to drown in it, because fighting costs energy and that’s not something easily come by in a place with minimal food rations and the screams of other prisoners waking you up every few hours at night. 

The only comfort was that Bellatrix Lestrange, his older cousin Bella, his childhood role-model gone crazy, was pushed into the cell next to his one day. That shouldn’t have surprised him, for Sirius was aware that she had been arrested only days before he had been for torturing the Longbottoms. But still, seeing a familiar face, even if it was Bellatrix’, gave him back some of his spirit — if only to laugh at her.

“You here? What a pleasant surprise. I guess we’re neighbours now.” 

She doesn’t answer. Instead, he sees her falling onto the narrow cot through the iron bars, her eyes empty and devoid of any fight. It is so unlike her usual energized behaviour that he can't help but worry. On one hand, this is the woman who brutally tortured people and definitely got what she deserved but on the other hand… she is family. The only one who had protested against him being removed from the family tapestry. 

The only one here with him, who faces the same demons every day.

“So, did your Dark Lord finally abandon you?”, Sirius asks her three days later when she seems a bit more alive, “I mean, sure, he’s gone, but why didn’t your little Death Eater friends come to your rescue?”

No answer; just a barely perceivable twitch in her face. “C’mon talk to me! I’m going crazy in here,” he pleads.

“Oh yeah? You are certainly not the only one, don’t act like you’re so special,” Bellatrix finally answers. It’s not exactly pleasant small talk but better than nothing, better than complete isolation or screaming strangers. “And tell me, cousin dearest, where are _your_ little friends? Or the great Dumbledore you were always so proud of working with. Or rather working for.”  
“Don’t tell me they _abandoned_ you?”, she asks with false pity.

“Well, seems so,” Sirius answers bitterly, “I guess we are sitting in the same boat.”

“No, we’re not. Not at all. _I_ accepted my reality, that I’m stuck here, but you are still hanging onto that small thread of hope. I can’t believe it. You must realize that no one will come for you. It’s been how long? 10 months now? A year? And you _still_ think they’re working on your rescue? Don’t fool yourself, you’re not that stupid. If you want to get out, you’ll have to take matters into your own hands.”

Bellatrix answer surprised him, he didn’t expect her hoarse voice to actually utter reasonable advice. Because no matter what she might believe, he gave up hope for being released a long time ago. He was aware that Dumbledore apparently didn’t care about him and must have persuaded his friends that Sirius was right where he was supposed to be.

But until now, he never thought breaking out would be an option: In here you had little to no energy, no wand, no ambitions or clear thoughts. 

“What are you suggesting? That we should simply run away? That’s ridiculous and you know it.”

Bella looks at him. “Are you really that ignorant? Of course, you can’t just pack your things and go, we’ll need a plan. And a good one, otherwise — should we be discovered and caught again — the dementors will surely give us the kiss. Like I said, we won’t be missed, so the consequences are going to be _bad_. We have to succeed on the first try.”

“Who says that I’d do this with you together?”, Sirius challenges. “I could just go without you. They’re less likely to notice a single person fleeing.” 

“Does us being family mean so little to you? Would you really just leave me here? How rude. And here I’d hoped you’d appreciate the only family you’ve still got left. But hear me out: Dark magic is necessary for this, and additionally it has to be performed without a wand. I may know a spell but it requires a lot of blood from the same family. And since that’s something we share, it would be highly beneficial for both of us to work together. As you know, blood given freely is way more effective…”

Her response bewilders him — if she already has everything planned out, then why was she still here? ‘Why wait? There are enough distant relatives of the Blacks in Azkaban at the moment, there surely is no lack of their family’s blood,’ Sirius muses. Bella’s extended stay surely isn’t based on her enjoyment of the islands’ view and cuisine. But whatever… 

“Okay, let’s do this.” If she’ll help him flee, he’s not going to question her. 

This is his chance to finally see Harry again, his little Harry. Sirius had always wanted children himself but when his friends brought their son home from the hospital after Lily gave birth to him, he instantly started loving him like his own son. Being his godfather had been such an honour, a duty he sadly hadn't been able to fulfil for way too long. 

Obviously, he could never replace the boy’s real parents — not that he planned on ever doing that — but Sirius sure as hell would do his best to make sure Harry has a good childhood. Though at the moment, the prospect for that doesn’t look so good. He _needs_ to know where Harry was brought to, where he lives at the moment. Maybe with Remus? No, Dumbledore would never let the Boy Who Lived alone with a werewolf, no matter how many times he reassured him of his trust. 

Who else was there… It can’t be… Dumbledore would not be as stupid as to place Harry at the Dursleys, would he? 

But he also showed no compassion for Sirius own situation, so who knows what’s going on in the headmasters head. That is a problem, and a massive one at that. He should have allowed himself to think about Harry sooner. 

He can’t allow the Durleys to lay their hands on him — the man was certain they would do exactly that with no regard to blood ties or that Harry is a _child_. 

When he first encountered them at Lily and James’ wedding he immediately received an unpleasant impression from them. Petunia and Vernon continuously whispered to each other, ignoring anyone who attempted to make polite small talk with them and using the word “freaks” a few times too often in their audible commentary. 

Back then he had wondered why they even bothered to show up, which resulted in Lily explaining about her sister’s and her husband’s obsession with being _normal_. So it was apparent that they held nothing but contempt for anyone present except for Mrs and Mr Evans who were the only Muggles at the wedding ceremony. 

The couple’s strong rejection of anything magical would highly endanger Harry should he have to live with them. Sirius still thought it absolutely unaccountable to force such a thing on Harry but at this point he wouldn’t be surprised if Dumbledore just didn’t care. He needed to find him _quickly_. 

Sirius would collect him from whoever currently had him in their care — even if it weren’t the Durleys but someone else, the possibility that they would exploit him for his fame as the Wizarding World’s Saviour was high.

His friends surely would have wanted it that way: That Sirius stepped in if he considered Harry to be in danger and to raise him himself. That he makes sure the boy got everything he needed and could have a happy childhood, despite the tragedy he has already witnessed at his young age.

So that’s what he will do. 

“How exactly does this ritual work?”, he asks Bellatrix determinedly.

###

**29\. December 1982**

They had been waiting until that point of the night where they were certain that no guards would come and potentially witness their escape. While they are waiting for enough blood to gather in the water jugs that were brought with their last meal Sirius can’t contain his curiosity any longer. 

“Why are you so reasonable? In the past you used to belittle me at every opportunity since it happened, since you changed. You were always so unhinged and out-of-control — no offence. But this is admittedly a bit strange...” 

“Well, that is actually the only thing that Azkaban has been good for. Since I’ve arrived here, I don’t feel like my mind is trying to burn itself all the time any more. Somehow, I’ve become calmer and can think more rationally now. I bet that’s the Dementors influence, not about making me calmer, but it’s like they are cooling me down somehow,” Bella thoughtfully explains. “Don’t get me wrong, I have good days and bad days. And it seems like you got lucky and only saw me on the good ones while we are in here together.”

“I’m happy for you. That you are feeling better,” Sirius says sincerely. “To be honest, I really missed you after I had left the family, and then whenever we saw each other again you acted like this whole different person. It was rather scary.”

Bellatrix looked at him with tired but for once clear eyes. “I sincerely apologize for that. Those horrid tales of the Black Madness grandfather told us really must have some truth in them after all… I guess this place is so depressing that I simply don’t possess the energy for mad outbursts.”

Suddenly, Sirius realizes something and becomes suspicious. 

“How do I know you are not going to stab me in the back and leave me here after I willingly helped you with the ritual? You could be planning on betraying me at this exact moment!” 

“Well, if it reassures you the ritual will bind us together, so that our bodies will be able to contain a vast amount of magical power without being destroyed. As you know, humans ordinarily have a certain limit which should not be exceeded. The necessary ritual inevitably involves a lot of blood, and through the binding process we’ll most likely become more like siblings than cousins,” Bella answers. 

“The bond would also compel us to protect each other, it’s similar to an Unbreakable Vow, with the only difference being that there is no consequence of death and instead of being obliged to stay true to it, we will genuinely want to be there for each other. The ritual is overall very old and family-focused, I know. Will you be alright with that, Sirius?”

“What choice do I have? And I have already started draining myself of my blood, so I’m not going to stop in the middle and let it go to waste,” he replies, surrendering.

When their respective jugs were about half-filled, Sirius recalls a question which has been bugging him for some time now. “Say, how do you even know about this? This peculiar kind of magic is not exactly public knowledge.”

“Did you forget your own last name? Or where we grew up?”, she laughs. “Unlike you, I _did_ study our family’s controversial history. If you hadn’t always been such a rebel, maybe you would have learned something useful for a problematic situation like this”, Bella adds with a smirk.

“But still, the ritual we are talking about is incredibly old. And what I’d also like to know... that _being_ mentioned in the incantation, do you have any further information about it? About what we are trying to accomplish here?”, he dubiously inquires. “Could it be some long-forgotten deity or a similar creature? Because I’ve never heard of it before.”

“When I first remembered this ritual again I was initially hesitant as well,” Bella concedes, “but at this point I’m willing to do about anything to get out of here alive.” 

“Mmh, I agree. Though I’m not quite sure if it is wise to possibly _pray_ to something we have absolutely no basic knowledge of,” Sirius says warningly. “Just imagine the consequences of summoning power in that manner… Anything could happen.”

“I know as much as you do about this point but to be honest, I don’t really care that much,” she nonchalantly answers. “Besides, our ancestors used this exact ritual before to escape, so the outcome couldn’t be that harmful. Otherwise, it would have been recorded in the family chronicles. They had been _sentenced to death due to dire misuse of magic with unmistakably harmful intentions_. That evidently used to be the traditional way of dying for our family in the past. And well, the both of us are locked up in Azkaban with a death sentence too, so it apparently hasn’t changed that much,” Bella chuckles. “Isn't that ironic?”

“I really don’t understand what's so amusing about that, but you are right. This is our chance,” her cousin grumbles. 

“I'm glad we’re working together in this, that we are on the same side for once,” Bella admits thoughtfully and smiles for the first time in forever. “It's been way too long since we last got along well with each other — 6 years now? I don't want to say that I'm happy you're here, but you know what I mean.”

Sirius has to agree. “We’ve both had to deal with so much shit in our lives, I just want us to leave this most recent hell of ours as soon as possible.” 

Yes, she is a murderer, no doubt, but in the shallow eyes of society so is he, so why not reconnect with family thought lost?

Bella’s plan is his direct ticket out of here, to collecting Harry and gaining back his life. 

While Bella taught him the incantation and Sirius tried to memorize it as efficiently as possible under the circumstances, they had been interrupted way too often, so it took some time until he could finally confidently recite it without stumbling over words. Whenever the guards made their rounds to deliver the prison’s meagre meals to the inmates, the two had to seem as innocuous as possible, as if they didn’t even talk to each other because an alliance between Sirius and Bellatrix Black would surely cause some alarm bells to ring in any sensible person’s mind. 

Other delays came in the form of the Dementors deciding to snack on their miserable emotions at the most inopportune times. In the aftermath the cousins were generally exhausted, feeling violated and in no state to move forward with their plan.

But Sirius did his best to power through, for Harry. He was his sole motivation at this point — next to taking revenge on Dumbledore for throwing Sirius away while he, in turn, had trusted the old man completely.

So when the cousins eventually gathered enough of their blood, they finally start and the younger performs at his absolute best to be able to finally achieve his goals, even if it was through a highly dubious — very dark — ritual recommended by a (former?) Death Eater.

There is no bandaging material, and they don’t want to risk wasting any power by healing themselves, so they are forced to operate very gingerly as not to leave blood stains from their still open wounds just anywhere. The bars separating their adjacent cells have gaps just big enough to be able to comfortably reach one’s bloody hands and skinny arms into the other’s cell. 

Carefully the two begin painting runes on each other's faces and bodies with the blood while chanting in an old language, long forgotten but by few.

Bella and Sirius close their — now once more passionate instead of dead — eyes and quickly lose themselves in the over and over repeated incantation resembling an invocation, a prayer.

_“Oh ancient one, we ask of you  
to stand by us, to lend us strength  
to bind us, of the same blood  
to bind us, of the same ambitions  
to bind us together and give us the power we need._

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_We will be your vessel, oh ancient one,  
let us be free again.  
We promise you our devotion,  
if you grant us your protection._

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_With this blood we show our willingness,  
please, ancient one, answer our prayers.”_

By the time the pair finishes and reluctantly opens their eyes again, it’s to look down at their joined hands with a changed essence. 

They ferally grin at each other, feeling power flood their veins, ready to ruin anything standing in their way.


	2. Dark Machinations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you like it! :)

**30\. December 1982**

It had been an unfortunate turn of events that Black suddenly seemed so interested in the boy. 

When the Potters named him Harry’s godfather, he hadn’t been alarmed, he even congratulated Sirius. Because he knew him as a reckless rebel who always used to get into trouble because of juvenile delinquencies, and later on more serious matters. 

Sirius had never expressed any interest in children, possibly due to his toxic family, so Albus expected him to keep his distance — physically as well as emotionally — from Harry.

Albus had never miscalculated something so badly before. Well, maybe once.

But seeing Sirius play with the boy, take care of him when his parents had a date night, and shower him with his fond affection, Albus realized that he had a problem. 

It was clear to him that Voldemort was undoubtedly going to target the Potters sooner or later because of the prophecy he had allowed Snape to witness. And if that happened there would unavoidably be deaths, so the headmaster did his best to protect them, though in the end it was for naught. 

It was apparent to him that Pettigrew was the traitor all along and not Black: the young man would never have given away their location, he was way too loyal, a true Gryffindor as surprising as that might be regarding his heritage. 

However, Albus now had two pawns less in his fight against Voldemort, a child whose soul contains a Horcrux and that he needed to get rid of if he wanted to successfully defeat his enemy once and for all, and a protective godfather who would for one never allow him to lay hands on the boy and in addition to that sway Harry into a rather inconvenient direction in his upbringing. 

Now, what to do about that hindrance? Ultimately, it had been an easy decision for Albus. 

Covering up the fact that Pettigrew had been the secret keeper instead of Black had gone smoother than he imagined and thus, Black had been transported straight to Azkaban for treason and the brutal murder of 13 individuals. Albus made sure that there would be absolutely no chance of getting a trial and just like that Black didn’t pose a threat to his brilliant plan any more. 

That truly had been one of Albus’ most brilliant manoeuvres. 

Of course, he had immediately ordered Hagrid to safely take little Harry to his remaining family, the _charming _Dursleys; the public counted on him to ensure the Boy Who Lived would be appropriately cared for.__

____

Naturally, he would have to be absolutely blind not to notice the couple’s evident dislike of anything magical but conveniently that characteristic fit right into his plan. Albus was equally aware of Vernon Dursley’s willingness to resort to violence if something went against his wishes, so placing Harry in their care had been a truly ingenious move of his. 

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He won’t even have to get his own hands dirty, Harry’s family will already do that completely out of their own free will, with no involvement of his own and no possible repercussions for murdering the Saviour of the Wizarding World. Everything works out perfectly. 

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Sure, it may take a few years until the Dursley’s finally snap completely, but he can wait since Voldemort too would need several years to become strong enough again to actually have a chance to properly come back. Oh yes, the headmaster can be patient. 

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It is timely that Black is locked up, Albus can never allow the man to get into contact with Harry again. The child would directly latch onto any remaining family members or parental figures who aren’t the Dursleys, and Black would have way too much influence over him. 

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He can’t have that happen, Harry still needs to make himself useful under Albus’ direction until his death. He would play the warm grandfather again to get the boy to trust his judgement completely and defend him from critics; Harry Potter’s opinion will be able to heavily impact the Wizarding World once he starts Hogwarts. 

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Securing the boy’s favour will be a considerable advantage, Albus’ political power would finally grow again. 

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But none of that will be possible should Black find a way to prove his innocence: He would obtain custody of Harry so that he wouldn’t be forced to live with Muggles, taint him with now most likely very anti-Dumbledore views and prevent his godson’s death. Black would possibly even send Harry to a different school to make it harder for Albus to get to him. 

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But let’s not think of such dark possibilities. This was _his_ pivotal moment to get the public behind him and later on they are all finally going to realize that _he_ was their ultimate saviour and not some _child_ — though they will understand soon enough.

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When Harry is finally dead Albus is going to reveal that he has been hunting Horcruxes in secret and Voldemort now has absolutely no way of ever coming back to life.  
He is going to hold an interview for the Daily Prophet and thoroughly explain the concept of Horcruxes and how dangerous they are. 

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And since no one but him suspects Harry Potter to be a Horcrux himself, there’ll be no connection between his unfortunate death caused by his cruel and abusive family and Albus’ further climb to long-earned fame. 

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The Wizarding World will eventually understand that they should be grateful to him, and Albus will become the next Minister for Magic because _finally_ someone demonstrated some competence when protecting Britain’s magical community.

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And once he has the Ministry under his control Albus is going to establish some new standards. He will silence those doubting him and sprouting false accusations, and with the concentrated powers of the Deathly Hallows as his own it will be no hardship at all.

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Albus still vividly remembers the moment Gellert first drew his attention to them. 

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He had been pouring over old tomes with his once very dear friend Gellert Grindelwald who had been the one to suddenly sit up from where they were reclining on a chaise lounge, and with a glint in his intelligent eyes excitedly said, “Albus, listen to this! 

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_‘The Deathly Hallows are three highly powerful magical objects supposedly created by Death and given to each of three brothers in the Peverell family. They consisted of the Elder Wand, an immensely powerful wand that was considered unbeatable; the Resurrection Stone, a stone which could summon the spirits of the dead, and the Cloak of Invisibility, which, as its name suggests, renders the user completely invisible’_ ”, he reads aloud. 

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Gellert had looked at him with glowing eyes and said, “Just imagine what we could achieve with such power to call our own!”

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Though Albus had been doubtful, “You do know that these objects are part of a children’s tale, right? You grew up in Hungary, didn’t you? Do they not know about this story over there?”

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“They do, I just have not come across it in a very long time and it just occurred to me that immensely powerful objects such as the Hallows can't possibly be completely fictional. There must have been an inspiration for the tale, somewhere, items which hold these powers.”

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And so the young men had started their extensive research, grew even closer to each other as well as more and more determined to find the Deathly Hallows and use their powers to realize their goals.

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In 1899, Gellert had come to Godric’s Hollow after being expelled from Durmstrang at 16 because of his — even for Durmstrang — extremely dark ambitions. 

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He stayed with his great aunt Bathilda Bagshot and Albus and him had quickly become friends due to their similar age, compatible personalities as well as their similar sentiments regarding Muggles and obsession with gaining intellectual, social and magical power. The two gifted youths eventually became lovers and swore a blood pact to never fight each other.

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They had dreamed of overturning the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy and of creating a new order in which wise and powerful wizards and witches were the benevolent overlords of their world, including Muggles who would be forced into subservience. The wizards triumphant with Albus and Gellert as the glorious young leaders of the revolution. 

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They would be invincible. The young men had been willing to resort to any means necessary to achieve their goals since it would be _for the Greater Good_ , as Albus justified it.

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And they had been so close to success. Locating the Hallows had not been that difficult in the end, the couple was ambitious and by all means ready to use dark magic in order to retrieve the mighty objects.

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But then Albus’ bothersome brother had felt the need to intervene and from that point in time everything had descended into chaos. Aberforth had foolishly believed that their plans became too dangerous and wanted to talk sense into Albus and Gellert.  
But his lover became angry and the following duel caused their sister Ariana’s death for which Albus blamed Gellert for many years to come. 

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He was no longer willing to work together with the other wizard and promptly broke their relationship off. Albus still shared his views, but he could not forgive the other.

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Gellert had left the country and a few years later Albus learned that he had raised a grand army to accomplish world domination on his own. He would have let him continue with his plans, even supported him as long as he would not have to be in the same room as his darling sister’s killer again, but Albus was a professor now, and the deputy-headmaster of Hogwarts and as such had to carefully maintain a certain imagine. 

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Of course, he had not swayed from his convictions though he worked hard to keep them secret and kept an eye on any suspicious students — especially Tom Riddle — who expressed an extensive interest in the Dark and did his — semi-successful — best to steer them back to the Light.

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Then in 1945, Albus had been unable to avoid his old friend and lover any longer. He was forced to take a stand and duel him. Though due to their blood pact they didn't fight — no, they talked instead. 

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Gellert candidly admitted that he was aware his armies would inevitably be defeated, “I’m going to willingly surrender as long as you, Albus, stay true to our ideals and don’t forget about our old plans. I know you still share my views, as good as you may have concealed them to your marionettes at Hogwarts. I am counting on you to establish that new order. And again — I am sincerely sorry about Ariana.”

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And so, through Gellert’s sacrifice of his freedom, Albus Dumbledore was known in all Wizarding Communities worldwide as the brilliant man who beat Grindelwald, one of the darkest wizards in history, and he gained more and more power magically, as well as prestige and influence; he was even awarded with the Order of Merlin. 

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Grindelwald may have been locked up in Nurmengard, but his plan was still in motion, carried out by his once most-trusted friend.

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### 

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Their ‘duel’ had taken place 37 years ago, but Albus still intends to honour the promise he had made back then. 

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The headmaster just needs to ensure the Potter boy’s premature death, and he will be the demise of not one, but two dark lords. The destruction of the last Horcrux will be the ultimate death of Voldemort and then no one can deny him anything. 

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Albus would have the entirety of the Wizarding World at his feet, unhesitatingly doing his bidding, calling him their hero, all the while being absolutely in the dark about his true motives.

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And if he the beacon of light proposes to subjugate the Muggles, it would be _obvious_ he only does that to protect them from the Muggles’ dangerous plans of eradicating all of wizardkind. _There simply would be no other way_ , it was necessary for the Greater Good.

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Another issue Albus is occupied by, next to the child and Black, is one Severus Snape and his loyalties. 

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Indeed, he used to be a Death Eater and Albus is aware of his change of mind and allegiance even if Voldemort was not, but what genuinely worries the old man is Snape’s emotional attachment to the late Lily Potter. 

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Albus needs to talk sense into the young man and distract him from his grief, otherwise he will remain as an uncontrollable factor who — in the worst-case scenario — might even tolerate that James Potter is the boy’s father and protect Harry solely due to his feelings of love and guilt towards his mother. 

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Which Albus can not allow if he wants to succeed. He will need to have a few deep conversations with Hogwarts latest Potions Master, and convince him that the boy is going to turn out _exactly like his bully of a father_ to deter Snape from possibly wanting to get to know the boy better and taking him under his wing; ‘what a disaster that would be,’ Albus shudders.

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Especially if the public found out: _Dumbledore allows Death Eater to be a constant presence in the Boy Who Lived’s life_ — what a great headline that would make, just the kind of scandal the Daily Prophet is waiting for. 

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Though that definitely would not take a good turn for Snape either, surely more than a few Death Eaters who are still free instead of rotting in Azkaban (‘like Black is, ha!’) would turn up and pose a few uncomfortable questions as to why he lets the boy get away with their Lords ruin just like that. 

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Therefore, it is in their mutual interest for Snape to maintain his distance, best paired with no wish to ever change that.

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### 

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Dumbledore muses in his office on a late and dark December night, as always plotting and patting himself on the back. He successfully got rid of Black which boosted his ego immensely and encouraged his arrogance even further.

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But meanwhile, long past midnight, said Animagus escapes Azkaban after over a year of his only company being Dementors and his crazy cousin Bella. With the help of an ancient blood ritual, the two depart from the island and make their way back towards England, leaving a massacre behind.

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It had taken a few moments until the cousins calmed down from the immense rush of power and the ecstasy they felt, which came along with the blood ritual. 

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It had turned out to be highly effective, making both wizard’s glowing eyes turn black — fitting, considering their last name — and causing an itch in them, a want to destroy something, to channel their overflowing power into action. At first, they had been speechless, for they both had doubted the success of the ritual but the result shocked them and turned them both giddy. 

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“Wow, this is certainly more than I expected,” Sirius had gleefully told Bella once he caught his breath. 

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She smirked, “I told you it would work. And since we were both more than willing to participate to get out, our enthusiasm must have made our incantation even stronger.”

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“Then let us go, I’m not going to spend a second longer in here than absolutely necessary!” 

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Sirius let go of his cousins hands for the first time since the ritual, and he could feel the power pulse in them. 

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He took a stance in front of the cells small, barred window which let the miserable prisoners smell the salty sea air and watch the frequent storms raging around the prison. 

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Experimentally, he lifted his arms, palms facing the window and concentrated on the power singing in veins. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Bella mirroring his actions and on “One, two, three!” they let go, blasting two giant holes into the wall, surely alarming the guards but the two were already running out of the prison as quickly as possible. Which was very fast, since their speed had apparently also been enhanced.

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“I’m going to change into my Animagus form,” Sirius yelled while running. “Can you try shrinking yourself? Do you think that's possible now?”, he panted, unused to this much physical exertion after months of imprisonment. “Then I could swim across the ocean with you sitting on my head, and transport us to the border of the apparition barriers.”

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And that’s exactly what they did, with Sirius dog form unsurprisingly being even bigger than before. Seconds later they were in the ice-cold water, frantically trying to cross the several miles until apparition became possible as fast as the odd duo could. 

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It was hard. The brutal cold of the North Sea in winter quickly affected them, crawling into their bones rendering the two escapees dead-tired, though Sirius had it a lot harder with almost his whole body emerged in the sea. 

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But the cousins had their dreams, hopes and plans for the future, keeping them going and warming their passionate hearts with thoughts of revenge. While the young man focused on crossing the miles as swiftly as possible, Bella concentrated on her new powers and thought of how her captors were going to suffer horribly — to pay for what they did to her physically and psychologically. 

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In her mind she pictured them lying dead on the island and when Bella opened her eyes again there was a deafening explosion to be heard from Azkaban, and a brutal shock wave caused big waves which carried them along. The witch smiled to herself, surprised but content with the countless murders she just became guilty of.

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Bella was proud of herself for being capable of such a thing, despite the distance they already put between themselves and the prison, and that she accomplished such a feat completely wandless, too. 

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When they finally reached a small island, actually just a few rocks and a small plane of sand lying above sea level, Sirius became himself again and for a minute they just stood there, hugging, trying to gather enough warmth and strength to apparate without splinching. But at least the water had washed most of the blood they were covered in away.

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Finally ready to keep going, the Blacks link their fingers again, with Bella taking the other along with her via side-apparition. She is infinitely happy that her cousin trusts her enough for that now and doesn’t immediately suspect her of trying to kidnap him in his weakened state or similar. 

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‘It seems like my emotions have been intensified through the ritual,’ she thinks to herself as she first takes them to an abandoned Muggle cinema, followed by a moonlit beach in Wales, next the lady’s room in the Leaky Cauldron and finally to one of their family’s estates. 

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Normally, Bella would have deemed that to be too risky but after apparating there after taking a few detours to shake off anyone who might be following them and thinking thrice if this really is one of the Black family’s carefully hidden mansions, she decides it to be safe enough for them.

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The two appear in the entrance room, both passing through the wards without a problem, and instantly collapse on the dusty floor. Sirius and Bella are still wet, cold and deeply exhausted — presumably it would stay that way for a while since the pair fell unconscious on the floor, additionally battling the other after-effects of their imprisonment such as malnourishment, mental instability (also due to the Dementors’ dreadful presence) and the occasional beatings from the guards. 

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And on top of that their bodies need to get used to that new power inside them, which was never intended to be obtainable by wizards at all — and which could make the Black Madness look like a joke if one wasn’t careful.

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Upon confusedly waking up they decide to move to one of the mansions many bedrooms, and fall asleep again on the king-sized bed as soon as their heads hit the pillows.

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The next time Sirius opens his eyes, the first thing he sees is the intimidating dark brown grandfather clock standing across the elegant room. According to it, it is already four in the afternoon and according to his stomach it was time for a meal.

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So, sluggishly, he gets up on unsteady feet and after checking that Bella was still out cold he makes his way to the kitchen. Wandering the familiar halls again, after years of being unwelcome and not wishing to be, is a strange experience for the young man. Nothing really changed, and he even feels at home in the old mansion again, odd as that might seem. 

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When his terrible hunger is finally sated for the first time since his wrongful imprisonment, and he changed out of the filthy rags covering his bruised body into clean and fitting clothes after a much-needed shower, he instantly feels and looks more respectable again — like a worthy member of the noble Black family.

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Surprisingly, that thought doesn’t irritate Sirius as much as it would have before.

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### 

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When they both finished healing their weakened bodies of the many wounds they had acquired in Azkaban, and the cousins are tiredly sitting in front of the fireplace, the young man finally speaks his mind.

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“I can’t believe you’ve turned your back on the Dark Lord and his lackeys. You’ve always been so devoted.”

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Sirius is still confused by this development. That Bella would rather help him escape and then even stay with him afterwards instead of eagerly waiting for the Dark Lord to come back from the dead and retrieve her.

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“The Death Eaters abandoned me! I was one of them but not any more!”, she angrily exclaims. “And I’m not so ignorant to still keep on hoping even though there clearly is no loyalty left. That’s how you used to think about Dumbledore and his pets, but I am not you.”

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“Well, you helped me realize that, too,” Sirius confesses. “Maintaining that hope of being rescued was my lifeline that I clung to when the Dementors closed in on me. That and Harry. But your company helped. And because of our plan I could finally concentrate and discard of these unrealistic wishes.”

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Bella smiles at him sadly. “I am sorry you were betrayed like that. But we are family and bound even tighter now through the ritual. We will always be there for the other from now on, you do not need these fools.”

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“You’re right! When people clearly don’t give a shit about you, it’s best to recognize that and move on.” The rejected Black Heir looks her in the eye, “And family is family! I am glad you accept me again, even though my relationship with the rest of the family is so strained.”

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It still saddens him, even though it’s been seven long years now since he left and was burned off the family tapestry. Every so often he wonders if Regulus, his dear bother, would have ever acknowledged him again if he wasn’t dead. He had been way too young to die, it just wasn’t fair!

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Bella notices his sullen thoughts, like she notices everything. Many underestimate her, presume her to be shallow, but her (often times wild) appearance and behaviour hide her intelligence. Insanity and intelligence — a dangerous mix, but traits that belonged to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black for as long as the collective Wizarding World can remember.

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“If I were you, I’d get my revenge on Dumbledore. Torture him a bit to make him suffer like we suffered in that damned place. I would make him beg for mercy, for forgiveness. Mmh… Maybe one or two Unforgivables would spice it up a bit,” she tries to cheer him up, grinning wickedly. And it works — the sadistic fantasy of finally making the old fool pay instantly lifts Sirius’ depressed mood. 

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Two years ago it would have been unthinkable — Bellatrix Lestrange née Black and Sirius Black in the same room? Talking about feelings? Plotting together against Dumbledore? Sirius would have considered anyone entertaining such ideas crazy. But now, he is quite content with that. He simply prefers the company of someone who he knows will unconditionally support him because of their bond, over being the pawn of a man who unblinkingly betrays those loyal to him because of his ulterior motives. 

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Funny, how the accusations of him being a dark wizard, a follower of the Dark Lord, an insane mass murderer actually led to him taking part in a dark ritual together with Bellatrix of all possible witches and wizards, and planning the demise of Dumbledore the Saint. ‘Really, it’s his own fault.’

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“Oh yes, I will get my revenge. But Dumbledore will have to wait,” the young man answers fiercely. “First I need to make sure that Harry is fine. After that the old fool will get what he deserves,” he promises with a dangerous glint in his newly black eyes.

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“You know what, Bella? Tomorrow is Sylvester, and then — New year, new me! I won’t let myself be treated like this any more. I am a Black, I am powerful and I won’t just idly sit around!”

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The dark-haired woman smiles at him with pride. “That’s the right mindset! The ritual gave us grand power, we would be stupid not to make use of it.” 

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(If there is an unhinged expression in her feral eyes, her companion doesn’t notice — maybe because it’s too similar to his own…)

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	3. Silvester

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the next chapter :)
> 
> As always not beta-read

**New Year's Eve 1982**

It is a cold and dark evening and not even the Ministry’s official owls dare venture through the heavy snowfall. Everyone is at home, joyfully celebrating with family and eagerly waiting for the — hopefully kind — new year, Wizards and Muggles alike. And those unfortunate souls on the streets who lost hope long ago, feel a renewed spark of light, too.

But there is one child, sitting in a playpen in a modest (but most importantly _normal_ ) two-story house in Surrey, who is not touched by this at all. In fact, the hope for a better future couldn’t be farther from his innocent mind, instead he is distracted by the gnawing hunger plaguing him and his mean cousin tugging on his rebellious hair. 

Though the boy — one Harry Potter — certainly should be the first candidate for faith to stand by in the coming times. He has already been through a lot in his short life, definitely more than the average toddler of 2 1/2 years. 

Harry took a trip on a gentle half-giant’s flying motorcycle (though admittedly he slept soundly through almost all of it), saw a cat with _glasses_ (??), witnessed a man in a colourful bathrobe stealing street lights and scarcely survived the murder of himself and his parents. And to top it all off, he now lives in a house where he doesn’t seem to be welcome at all. 

And due to the trouble that he is promised to undoubtedly attract because of his genetics, his youth will surely not be less chaotic.

But at the moment little Harry is safely trapped in a playpen in his aunt and uncle’s house in a thoroughly normal neighbourhood with no unusual happenings ever (beside his unexpected and dramatic arrival which was _heavily_ disapproved of by his family). 

His relatives — who placed him in a playpen in an unused room at his uninvited appearance on their doorstep —, those are his cruel uncle Vernon Dursley who absolutely hates the child’s presence in their peaceful home (“He’s slowly getting too old for the playpen, don’t you think so too, Petunia? Why don’t we place him in the cupboard under the stairs from now on, mmh? Wouldn't that be more fitting?”), his aunt Petunia Dursley née Evans who dislikes him just as much but still feels obliged to raise him because Harry is nevertheless _Lily’s son_ (“For God’s sake, if you're not going to properly feed him, Vernon, you could just as well toss him out. Do you want to be known as a child abuser? Or even as a murderer? Think of what the neighbours would say!”), and his slightly older cousin Dudley. Who for some reason really likes tugging at Harry’s black hair and making him cry. 

But still, his cousin is his only companion even though his parents try their best to separate the two of them whenever the toddlers play together.

Especially Vernon bears nothing but contempt for his nephew. If he got his will, the horrid boy would have never even crossed the threshold of their home.

“He shouldn't be in contact with Dudley! What if his freakishness is contagious? I won’t allow him to harm our son, Petunia!”, Vernon said two days after Harry’s arrival, when coming home from work and discovering the two happily watching Sesame Street together. That had been the first time he really exploded. “If something should happen to Dudley, it’s your fault, too, Petunia, you're too soft on the boy! I understand that he is your damned sister’s son, I’d also take in Marge’s children in a second should the need arise, but seriously, this freak? That’s who you call your family?” 

It hadn’t been a pleasant evening for anyone in the house, the adults heatedly arguing, the children crying (it goes without saying that all of it took place behind tightly closed windows and drawn curtains). 

“Don’t you see, that he is manipulating you into helping him? I bet, he is bewitching you! Because he knows what a freak he is, and that no sane person would stand up for him.”

When Harry had started wailing especially loudly at that ( _as if he had understood_ ), Vernon became even more enraged, boiling with violent anger and almost steaming from the ears.

“See, Petunia? The little bastard knows exactly that the tides aren't in his favour and starts worrying.” The aggressive man turned to the little toddler. “That’s right,” he grinned meanly, “You are _not_ wanted here, nor anywhere else. I’m convinced that clown knew very well what my stance on this is, he looked into his crystal ball and decided to leave you under my loving care.” 

Then he abruptly turned away, muttering to himself.

Petunia had been silent the last few uncomfortable minutes, letting her husband rant, not wanting to irritate him further. As long as he wouldn’t bodily harm Harry, it would be okay. Or so she told her consciousness. 

She could still hear him from the kitchen, most likely looking for a drink after all the tumult, still talking to himself.

— “Damned wizards, who do they think they are?! And what in hell’s name did that clown think when he left the freak here??”

Petunia knew there would still be a long night of screaming ahead.

— “I’d really like to speak to their manager. They must surely have one, that lot has to be kept under tight control! Though, a president of the clowns? What utter _horror_.” 

She could practically see him shuddering. 

Pulling herself together and bracing herself, she reluctantly went into the kitchen, ready to defend her nephew. Even though she possesses no love for him, she felt the need to remind the enraged man that the odd boy is still _human_. A little _child_. Who deserves to live somewhat decently, even if she isn't keen on providing him with the means for that.

In the end, Petunia managed to convince him by explaining how much their status would rise within their neighbourhood community by raising an orphaned toddler. They’d be perceived as _saints_. And by reminding Vernon of the money the government, as well as the wizard, would give them to support them raising the boy. Of course, not all of it would be necessary for Harry, he is such a content child as is. 

So Harry is fed three times a day (though smaller portions than their _precious_ Dudders), he gets dressed in the clothes the already way bigger toddler rapidly grows out of and was even given a pair of glasses when Petunia felt especially generous one day. 

Harry has no toys but whenever he sneakily manages to play with his cousin without being watched they — mostly — peacefully share.

He is a quiet child. Dudley always babbles to himself and anyone who would listen; his parents are _immensely_ proud of him. But whenever Harry opened his mouth for anything other than eating, he was unmistakeably signalled by his uncle that his voice was not desired. 

He learned quickly.

At present, the boys are drawing together while Petunia readies the house for the arrival of the guests of their annual New Year's Eve Dinner. It’s a tradition that started with the Dursleys’ marriage and a golden opportunity for Vernon, who likes to invite his business partners, to make a last deal of the year. It has always been a nice little gathering but now with Harry in the house… he’ll have to stay hidden, and God forbid he starts crying. How could Petunia possibly explain where the child came from without revealing his abnormality? No, that simply won’t do.

Just _why_ couldn’t she have had a normal family? 

Why did her sister have to receive that blasted letter all those years ago? (And why didn’t Petunia get one too?) She bitterly hated Lily for that. For always thinking herself to be better than her, with her beauty, good grades, the handsome boyfriend and the _magic_. 

Petunia despised her sister for her happiness. Herself, she has the perfect life, no doubt about that; she lives in a nice house in a good area, has a perfect cute little son, an excellent reputation, is financially secure and has a well respected husband. But there is definitely no love there (— at least on her side) and Petunia still feels like something is sorely missing; she is greedy like that (for something, a spark, _magic_ ).

And now, her perfect life is disturbed by the involuntary addition of her nephew to their household, and he is a living reminder of all the thoughts (the uncomfortable truths) Petunia did her best to lock away inside herself.

With Harry’s green eyes, black curly hair and need for glasses, the resemblance to his parents is undeniable. Just as Petunia’s treacherous thoughts are turning out to be. Though at this point a divorce would be out of question anyhow; she doesn't want to be one of _those_ women. 

She desperately wants to be normal. When Petunia didn't receive a Hogwarts letter like Lily did, she had been _devastated_. She was incredibly jealous of all the things her sister achieved and the magic in her life, but when the jealousy turned into ugly bitterness there was one thing Petunia quickly realized. One thing she could do which was _impossible_ for Lily. And from that point on, she prided herself on being _normal_. 

Petunia grew up in a poor neighbourhood, in a small house with no privacy and constant loud noises from outside: chaotic traffic, screaming kids and even louder arguing couples.

She hadn't had many friends. She was neither attractive nor particularly talented or amiable to the other children. Lily shared none of these problems. Early on she befriended Severus Snape — a reclusive boy who disliked Petunia just as much as she did in turn. 

And she never understood their friendship at all. Though now, she can't help but wonder. 

‘Why didn’t that crazy wizard deliver Harry to Snape? He always cared so much for Lily, so why burden us with the boy, instead of him, someone who would actually want him?’

It is a mystery to her. If she was Dumbledore, she never would have thrown the boy into the Muggle world with no proper guardian or adequate protection — Petunia knows from her childhood that accidental magic is hard to explain, and why would someone as influential as Dumbledore risk the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy? It just doesn't make any sense to her. Even less so, considering the circumstances of James and Lily’s deaths.

But oh well, the boy is family. And as much as she dislikes his sort, she would try to protect Harry from her husband.

Now finished with vacuum cleaning the living room, Petunia moves on to obsessively scrubbing the kitchen counters, all the while deep in thought. 

### 

After a pleasant dinner, Vernon goes upstairs to visit the bathroom and hears suspicious giggles coming out of the small room they had locked the boy inside. 

Naturally, he goes to investigate. ‘Who knows what the little miscreant is up to now!’

When he cautiously opens the door and enters the bleak room, Vernon sees Harry standing in front of the large window. Somehow he must have climbed out of the playpen, an impressive feat for a toddler. That alone would have been slightly alarming but still within the realms of completely natural possibilities. The boy seems delighted, curiously watching the rainbow-like fireworks outside, pressing his snotty nose to the ( _freshly cleaned_ ) window, giggling quietly. The boy didn't even notice him coming into the room. 

What sets Vernon off, are the colourful sparks the freak starts to produce himself with his _fingers_. It starts slowly. The boy doesn’t even seem to notice at first, but when he does he just gets more excited and turns the small sparks into little shapes, flowers, faces, with nothing more but an intense look of concentration. The sparks are glittering magnificently, always changing shape but never diminishing in intensity.

For a second, the man thinks that he’s simply too tired and that his mind is merely playing tricks on him, but then he remembers who it is that he has in front of him.

Harry Potter. Wizard baby. _Freak_.

“You!”, he shouts, startling the giddy boy. 

“I know you’re too stupid to comprehend everything we say, but Gods in heaven, you damn well should have noticed by now that _we will not tolerate magic in this house_!” Vernon started the sentence in a dangerous whisper but gradually lost control and is screaming again. The only thing preventing him from becoming violent and which compels him to simply leave the room as fast as possible (though not without banging the door shut behind him) is the thought of their dinner guests sitting downstairs; not suspecting anything, least of all the presence of his freaky nephew.

After the guests left, and they are finally alone again, he cannot hold his temper any longer. 

“Petunia, I’m sorry, I know he is your sister’s son, but I won't stand for this any longer, if he can't control himself.”

“But Vernon —”

“No! We can't let him be seen by the neighbours! This window faces the Adams’ backyard, just imagine what they could have witnessed! What horror!”

“Harry can't help himself! For God’s sake, he is a _child_ —“

“I don’t care, Petunia. From now on he will live in the cupboard under the stairs, he's small it’ll fit. And if you object, feel free to leave together with him. And don't you even dream of taking my son away with you.”

So that was that. 

The next morning, Harry wakes up to dust tickling his face from his uncles heavy steps on the stairs.

He doesn’t understand what he did wrong, he was merely playing with the pretty lights but it seems like his uncle really doesn’t like him.

### 

In a small, sparsely illuminated flat in Cokeworth Severus Snape spends his New Year's Eve alone, drinking and wallowing in sorrow, once again.

His small home in Spinner’s End isn’t much, but most of the time he feels he deserves it. For his crimes — leaving Lily, insulting her in the worst way, supporting the Dark Lord, and so on. Were Severus less drunk he could easily tell you about even more of his many mistakes, but drunk as he is he accomplished his goal of forgetting. Anything but Lily and the Dark Lord. His two gravest errors.

He knows he should be looking forward to the new year, but all he can think of is the one New Year's Eve he had spent together with Lily, his one true love. They had been so young. So happy.

And now she is dead and Severus wishes he was.

He carefully pours himself another glass of wine. 

‘Just what is my purpose on this earth? Everything I do fails, every flower I touch wilts.’ Even alone he desperately tries to stay dignified and does his best to fight back the tears.

‘Oh, Lily.’

Sometimes he thinks that starting Hogwarts had been the point where everything went wrong. Of course, his life hadn't been that great before either, but he had his red-headed best friend, the playground where the two carefully opened their hearts to each other and no cruel kids who, in the end, destroyed both of their lives with their corrupting influence. 

Had they never gone to Hogwarts, Severus wouldn't have been in contact with the future Death Eaters and never been pressured into pushing Lily away from him. He would never ever even have thought of doing that.

And Lily never would have met James Potter. The arrogant bastard.

Yes, he would have been subjected to his fathers whims all year round, but he would have had Lily. 

They would have been able to learn magic by themselves — he had his mothers old schoolbooks and the two of them were clever.

But Severus knows that the past is the past. That he needs to accept his life and all his terrible mistakes. The thought of turning back time and doing it all again is tempting, but he is so terribly afraid of making it even worse. Severus is a coward.

So his only chance at redemption is to ensure a better future for her son. Her only child. 

James Potter’s child.

But still (even if he can't bring himself to be sad about Potter senior’s death), he would try to keep the boy safe. Harry. Growing up without parents will be hard; and Severus gives himself the blame for not keeping Harry’s mother safe, for dragging her into that bloody mess, for driving her away from him instead of protecting her.

From outside, he hears festive noises, fireworks going off and loud music. He curses the thin walls of his miserable home often enough (though he always forgets to look up an efficient sound-proofing charm in the end), but now he is glad for the interruption, for not having to be trapped in the maddening swirl of guilt, sorrow and hate in his brain any longer. 

The young man notices his empty wineglass. He fills it again.

Severus knows Petunia, Lily’s older sister, better than he’d like to. Every time he met her in his childhood had been one time too many. He wonders what she thinks of her nephew — he sincerely hopes she never gets Harry into her claws. 

And even more strongly he prays that Dumbledore found someone competent who can take care of the child instead of her. He can already imagine her disdainful behaviour when faced with accidental magic or even recognizing the child’s vibrant eyes as the same as her sisters.

Severus suppresses a shudder. Of course, Petunia must have changed a lot in the last 10 years, as did he, but he cannot imagine her raising a wizarding child, least of all _Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived_. 

He knows that her incivility stemmed from her jealousy, but he wouldn't put it past her to let it all out on a child. As he does sometimes. Or rather often.

Really, what did Dumbledore think when he made _him_ a teacher at Hogwarts? Clearly to keep an eye on him, Severus is aware of that. And obviously, he recognized Severus’ talent at brewing Potions, but teaching had never been his strongest suit, especially _children_. He doesn’t have the patience required to explain the most elementary things to brainless idiots. Even if the before mentioned are muggleborn first years with no chance of prior knowledge. 

He never would have guessed that he would end up here — ‘though it's not the end yet by a stretch, is it? I'm barely 23!’ Severus takes a sip to wet his suddenly parched throat. ‘And I have already lost my dearest friend and love of my life, willingly joined a crazy megalomaniac, killed innocents, witnessed a faith-changing prophecy, became a spy and am now worried about my dead school rival’s orphaned son.’

Severus snorts. ‘The level of drama in my life can hardly rise any more,’ he tells himself. ‘Just like the incredible stupidity. What was I thinking when I took the mark?! — At least I was accepted back here by Dumbledore. Though the old man is just as manipulative, secretive and untrustworthy as the Dark Lord… not that I’d ever say that to his face.’

Another bout of cheers from outside distracts him again. The young, freshly made Potions teacher stands up from his favourite armchair and stands at the window. The colourful lights of the Muggle fireworks reflect on his grim face, but the atmosphere outside — the gracefully falling snowflakes, the happy couples, the laughing children — give him, along with the sad memories, a new hope for a new year.


	4. New Beginnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took some time, but here it is!

**31\. December 1982**

“Kreacher! Come here!”, a rough voice bellows. A second later the grumpy house elf pops into sight. 

“The filthy traitor is back? Kreacher must tell Mistress Walburga!”, the elf exclaims alarmed.

“You will do no such thing,” Sirius commands. “Bellatrix and I escaped from Azkaban and require your services. You are a house elf of the Black Family, you will obey me!”

“Mistress Bella is free, too?”, Kreacher jumps up and down in ecstatic happiness. “I am honoured to serve her again.”

“Hrmph. I guessed so. So, you will not speak to _anyone_ about us, understood?”

“Yes, Master! If Mistress Bella and Master Sirius are together, Kreacher will do as you say”, the house elf readily affirms. “If Mistress Bella likes the traitor’s company, I will service Master Sirius, again,” he says joyfully.

Sirius has to work hard to conceal his genuine surprise. He didn't expect the damned elf to show him any respect, least of all promise to keep their location a secret. But mentioning Bella worked like a charm. 

‘Crazy how the little creature has so much affectionate devotion for her, and so little for him. But I suppose Bella and mine newfound bond might change that,’ the young man thinks.

It is of great importance that Kreacher won't spill their whereabout to anyone, not even the other members of their damned family. Sirius is sure that his _charming_ mother would _love_ to lock him right back up if they were found.

After the many detours Bella took while apparating them away from the middle of the moonlit sea, they ended up in one of the Black Family’s ‘abandoned’ manors. One of the places where the renowned family’s dark artefacts are hidden (Blacks are clever enough to not risk illegal objects being found in their home), so they can't be traced back to them should they be found by Aurors. The manor is heavily secured by blood wards which only family members can pass, and they were carefully constructed in a way which makes the wards impossible to be detected by outsiders. To the rest of the world, the land that the manor is built on doesn't exist at all. That must have been an extraordinarily hard bit of spellwork, but the Blacks have always been extraordinary wizards — though leaning a great bit more towards the darker spells. 

In the past Sirius was doubtful of the use of these spells but now he is grateful. It has barely been a day since their escape from Azkaban but it has already been leaked to the media by one of the surviving guards and the wizarding world is in panic. 

Rita Skeeter jumped at the opportunity, as always, and minutes after getting presentable again and talking to his cousin the two already discovered their faces on the front cover of a special edition of the Daily Prophet. 

Skeeter really had a field day. In only hours she interviewed several of the prison’s officials, the Minister of Magic, other inmates and even ordinary witches and wizards going about their day about their fears and expectations.

Since no one knows about the ritual, all the Prophet published is a heap of wild speculations which will only serve in making the public panic even further. However, one thing caught Sirius’ eye: On the front page directly under both of their moving mugshots (which make the cousins look more than just _slightly_ unhinged) is written in big bold letters a considerable sum of money which is offered as a bounty to anyone who brings them in, and smaller sums to anyone who delivers information about the criminals’ whereabouts to the Aurors. 

What a mess.

Sirius expected that the public would be alarmed at his outbreak, but not to this degree. Well, his alliance with Bellatrix Lestrange seems to be a safe recipe for mass hysteria.

Good thing that the two are safely hidden from the public in the manor in Dartmoor. 

“What do you think of this?”, he asks Bella. “Don’t you think the prize is too low?”, he jokes.

“Well, it’s not the first time that there’s a price on my head but it has actually never been higher than 1,000 galleons,” she laughs. “We’re breaking records.”

The witch turns to the dinner table. “Kreacher! Prepare us something to eat for dinner, will you?”

“Of course, Mistress Bella. Any special wishes?”, the elf asks eagerly.

“No, I trust you know what we like. But make it fancy — It’s New Year’s Eve, dear Sirius and I are free again, and I am feeling stronger than ever! We’re going to celebrate!”

Kreacher bows. “Just a second, Mistress.” With that he pops back to the kitchens again, and a short while later Bella and Sirius are contentedly talking over a meal.

“I must confess, I have grown quite accustomed to your presence,” Sirius says after taking a sip of his drink.

“Me too,” Bella answers. “Especially with our bond it will be advantageous to stay together. At least, until we find out about the dimensions of our new powers and possible side effects...”

“I agree. I enjoy your company, we’re both wanted and there is no one else to trust but us.”

“You really trust me?”, she asks, surprised but honoured.

“Well, at first I only agreed to the bond to get out of that hellish place, but now that we’re free I feel no desire to leave. Also, when you apparated us away, you simply could have left me — or taken me somewhere where I would be in danger. But you didn’t, even if you gained nothing by doing so,” Sirius explains truthfully. “So yes, I do trust you.”

“Thank you. I am glad we can repair our damaged relationship.” Bella smiles at him. But not the crazy smile that stems from bloodlust, but a soft one, directed at her dear cousin. “So, what now?”

“I say, we go out tomorrow to buy new wands. I really miss having one, even if we may not need it any more.”

“Sounds like a plan!”

That out of the way, the two resumed their meal, still unaccustomed to such great food after the long time of being subjected to near starvation, but content and simply enjoying the other’s company. 

### 

‘ _Shit!_ ’

That was the only thought Albus Dumbledore was able to form before he had to concentrate on not dying because of the tea he just choked on.

All this was caused by the arrival of a special edition of the Daily Prophet during afternoon tea. The Great Hall is filled with only a few of the school’s teachers and those students who decided to stay at the castle over winter break. They are the ones Albus had to hide his horror from upon receiving the newspaper and the dreadful news it contains.

‘ _How_ did Black get out of Azkaban?! Escape should be impossible!’

“Are you alright, Albus?”, the deputy headmistress Minerva McGonagall asks concernedly. 

“I am, don’t worry, Minerva”, he reassures her. “Just a sip of tea going down the wrong pipe.” Albus smiles at her, eyes twinkling.

But inside his thoughts are in utter chaos. It’s a good thing that he is so good at masking what is going on inside his head — otherwise everyone in the Great Hall would be witness to his hateful silent tirade against Black. ‘My plans were finally coming together, Black’s imprisonment was such a good development, and now? That nuisance is coming back to crush my plans.’ Albus has to work hard to restrain himself from screaming in frustration. He was more dignified than that. He only had to sit through tea, and then he could start plotting in his office in peace. It wouldn't do to let more than mild alarm at the escape of his former student turned alleged Death Eater show. 

After hurrying back to his office as soon as he could leave without causing suspicion, Albus immediately floo-calls Millicent Bagnold, the Minister of Magic. He only has to wait a few seconds before she answers it and her head becomes visible in his fireplace. One of the perks of being the headmaster of Britain’s only wizarding school is undoubtedly the ‘privilege’ of having a meeting with the minister without an appointment and her being the one who apologizes for not being able to answer instantly.

“Headmaster Dumbledore, it's a pleasure to hear from you again, so soon. What can I do for you?”, Bagnold greets him politely.

“Actually, it’s a political matter — it’s about Sirius Black, I’m sure you know what I am talking about with the current uproar.”

“Yes,” Bagnold answers hesitantly. “Though I am confused as to what you, Headmaster, might want to talk about with me. The Aurors are working on it, I assure you that Hogwarts is in no danger.”

“Well, first of all, I would like to know how it came to this!”, Albus finally explodes. “Why is Azkaban’s security so low?? I cannot believe this happened! You can’t just let mass murderers wander around and flee! Especially Sirius Black!”

“Oh? Why are you so upset about Black in particular? Wasn’t he one of your favourites, along with Potter and his gang? Aren’t you glad, he is free of that place?”, the minister asks him suspiciously, her Slytherin nature showing. “Why do care more about Sirius than Lestrange? Her reputation is a lot more gruesome, I’d call her the more dangerous one of the two any day.” 

‘Oh no, I need to be more careful. I can't let her catch on, especially not now, where all my efforts are already going down the drain as it seems.’ Albus does his best to calm himself — he needs to think of the long-term benefits.

“Well,” he tries to justify himself. “We always knew that Lestrange was a dark wizard and serving Voldemort, but Sirius betrayal hit me harder personally,” Albus explains sadly. “As you said, I quite liked him, so this surprise may have caused me to overreact a bit.” 

‘Yes, that’s right. Play the old and hurt grandfather, and they’ll suck up anything I tell them.’

Bagnold still regards him strangely, but quickly begins to reassure him again. “Though we do not know yet how the breakout was accomplished, several Auror teams are working on it, and it has already been cleared by other inmates and with the help of Veritaserum that there has been no outside assistance.” 

“No outside assistance?”, Albus repeats. “Are you certain? How else would they have blown such a hole in a thrice warded wall? Without wands, and weakened?”

“As I said, Headmaster, the investigation is still going on,” she says, annoyed. 

It surprises him that the outbreak is allegedly of their own doing alone. Lupin has always had a soft spot for Black, it wouldn't have come as a surprise should the werewolf have helped the other man escape and hid him afterwards.

“Alright, thank you for your time, Minister Bagnold. Merlin be with you in these dark times.”

“Goodbye, Headmaster Dumbledore.”

Gladly, Albus even would have been prepared for this possibility to some degree: Lupin is dependent on Snape because he is the one who brews the Wolfsbane Potion for him without charging unreasonably huge fees or spreading prejudiced rumours about the werewolf after learning about his identity. And Snape — oh what luck, the man in turn is controlled by Albus himself who sheltered the traitor after his defection.

So should the situation have called for it, in case it was actually Lupin hiding the fugitives, he at least had some measure of security to influence the turn of events.

Albus hopes Minister Bagnold did not notice anything amiss, he can’t afford the wizarding population to become suspicious of _him_ now.

### 

**1\. January 1983**

The next day, two short, middle-aged figures can be seen in Diagon Alley, a witch and a wizard, casually wandering through the busy street, looking at the window displays and occasionally going inside a shop. They are both rather chubby, blonde and well-dressed. No one would have guessed that these two figures are the — at the moment — most wanted criminals concealed under a glamour.

It is a freeing experience for Bella and Sirius, to finally be in public again without being tackled down by Aurors at the first opportunity. The two enjoy the outing immensely, laughing and pointing at interesting things in a carefree way, but of course never completely letting their guard down.

After visiting a few shops for appearances’ sake the two discreetly turn around a few corners and enter Knockturn Alley. The two decided beforehand that they would buy their wands here, at _Indigo Leveret’s Wicked Wands_ , instead of at Ollivander’s. The man knows entirely too much for his own good, it’s downright scary.

The small shop is visibly old, way older than his counterpart in Diagon Alley, with dust stained paint peeling off the building’s facade and an ancient bell jingling at the opening of the door.

Inside, the cousins are greeted by dark wooden shelves and a thin, pale man standing behind a counter, which could only possibly still be standing because of at least ten layers of magic. At their entry the man turns towards them, inspecting them critically. He seems to recognize their glamours but doesn’t comment on it — in Knockturn Alley it’s not unusual for clients to disguise their identity. Anonymity can save lives. 

“Mr. Leveret?”

“What can I do for you?”, the shopkeeper grunts disinterestedly.

“We’re looking for a pair of new wands,” Bella replies.

“Come on in then,” the man waves them behind the counter towards the high shelves. “Which area of the shop do you feel the most comfortable in?”, he asks. “The wands are sorted by core types.”

The pair follows him and after slowly walking towards all the corners, they both stop in front of a rather empty shelf, labelled ‘Thestral Hair’ and only filled with a few lost-looking wand cases. 

Noticing the section the two glamoured wizards stopped at, the store owners’ eyes flash with picked interest for a second before carefully hiding any and all emotion again. Curiosity is dangerous. 

“You are the first to be drawn to these particular wands in over 70 years,” he says casually. “Now, I’ve got a few wood samples, if you would pass your hand over them, please.”

Sirius does so first, picking up a light piece of wood, which seems to call to him and warms his hand without even touching it. “This one,” he says decidedly.

“A good choice,” Mr. Leveret comments.

“Is that cypress?”, Bella asks curiously. The pale man turns to her, surprised. “That’s right, madam. You have a good eye,” he compliments.

“Cypress wands are associated with nobility,” he continues. “Though it is also said that a witch or wizard wielding one would die a heroic death; you should be careful.”

Sirius can’t bring himself to be surprised that he is drawn to a wand of such wood. He would die any minute for those he cares about, his inner Gryffindor makes sure of that.

“These wands gravitate towards the brave, the bold and the self-sacrificing: those who are unafraid to confront the shadows in their own and others’ natures,” the man goes on. “A wand of this wood will be a powerful tool and companion for you, sir.” 

“Well, I would hope so!”, Sirius replies amusedly. 

“Now, to you, madam. Which one fits you best?”

Bella points to a darker, slightly reddish wood sample. “It feels like it’s sending a current of magic towards me,” she says with delight in her dark eyes.

The man looks at her with a new caution. “This is cherry wood — it is very rarely used for wandmaking. Cherry wood often makes a wand that possesses truly lethal power, whatever the core, but if teamed with dragon heartstring, the wand ought never to be teamed with a wizard without exceptional self-control and strength of mind.”

“A good thing, that I’m choosing a thestral hair core, then” she jokes darkly, “because those two traits are not exactly part of my character.”

“But even so, you need to be careful, both of you,” the thin man warns the cousins. “Thestral hair wands are tightly connected to death, especially as instruments of murder. There aren't many with this particular core, but the most famous one — the Elder Wand, one of the Deathly Hallows — is presumed to have a mind of its own. It is said to be completely dispassionate and showing no emotion towards the wizard, all the while inspiring murder in the heart of its beholder.”

The cousins look at each other with no surprise. Murder is not something they are averse to.

“Even if it’s not the Elder Wand itself that you are wielding, you should be cautious of what you really want and which ideas may have come from the wands influence.”

“That will be no problem,” Sirius answers coldly; they are in Knockturn Alley, the shopkeeper shouldn't be surprised about his clientele’s lack of a moral compass.

Mr. Leveret nods and reaches up to the top of the high shelf, extracting two wand cases with their chosen wands and takes them to the counter. “That will be 20 galleons,” he says without any further comment. 

It was a good thing that there is still more than enough money in one of Black Manor’s hidden vaults, so they didn’t need to visit Gringotts — that truly would have destroyed their disguises and caused an unpleasant run-in with presumably no less than 15 Aurors.

Bella reaches into her pouch and hands the wandmaker the appropriate amount of galleons. “Have a nice day.” 

After they exited the shop, Sirius shakes his head confused. “That shop is so much more organized than Ollivander’s; no strange measurements of body parts and Ollivander’s manic attitude to suffer through. If it was located in Diagon Alley, everyone would go there instead. Well, Mr. Leveret would have to get rid of the illegal wand cores, but otherwise he’d make so much more money…”

“Didn’t you notice that he is part-vampire? The darker wizards who visit Knockturn Alley on the regular are more accepting of that than the hypocrites on the ‘lighter side’. If he relocated, his business would rather suffer than make more money, I’d guess.”

Sirius agrees, “It really is a shame.”

Back at the manor and finally shedding the glamour, the cousins take one look at each other and the grin on their faces means exactly the same thing: “Run. This wand needs some breaking in.” And so they duel; vicious, as brutally as possible in their still not fully healed bodies, but the adrenaline they feel while running down the hallways of their ancient family home, laughing manically and seeing stray curses reflect in the other’s eyes makes it easy to ignore the pain for the moment.

From the beginning of their little duel on, they used mainly dark curses and when Sirius notices this later when the two tiredly sit on the stairs to the wine cellar, he is surprised at how easy it came to him and even more so that he didn't even notice. ‘James would have a heart attack if he saw me right now. Azkaban escapee, mock fighting with Bellatrix, back at Black Manor, using dark curses with a thestral hair wand. James was a prankster but in the end he became an auror; he carried out the law. We _both_ did.’ Sirius snorts sadly in remembrance of his dead best friend. ‘Look what became of me, Prongs.’ Although, he can’t bring himself to regret it.

Bella gets up from her place where she leaned against the stair railing and plops down next to him. “You look sad.” She cocks her head to side and looks at him inquisitively. “What are you thinking about?”

“Just memories…”, he sighs.

“You know, we’ve changed, we’re renewed. We are no longer our old selves; there is no going back. Just leave the past behind! For all we know, we made a deal with a god — or the devil. Who knows? And you have to accept that.”

“I know that you are right, Bella, but it’s hard to let go of my past life. Especially Harry. You know, I am going to get him from those vile muggles as soon as I’m fully healed. I don’t care about the rest as much, but he is non-negotiable.” Sirius looks at her imploringly, begging his cousin to understand. He didn’t want to risk their newfound friendship with an argument about a matter which is guaranteed to make him aggressive. “Let’s save Harry and go somewhere else, anywhere, away from Britain,” the young man suggests excitedly.

Bella regards him pensively for a second. “That actually sounds like a great idea! I’d love to go to Italy again. Though we should maybe wait a bit longer-”

“What? Why?”

“To make sure that we really are at full-strength. Who knows, what kind of protections Dumbledore put into place around the boy…”

Sirius snorts. “The old man doesn’t care about him at all, I’m sure.”

“Still,” Bella replies, “I don’t want to risk anything. Also, remember we’re wanted criminals, we should be able to fight for our lives if we’re caught ‘abducting the Boy Who Lived’.”

“I’m not comfortable with not looking for him now that I finally have the chance to,” Sirius utters, frustrated.

“Don’t sulk,” Bella nearly laughs. “It won’t take long, the ritual made sure of that.”

“You are right, I should think positively. Though I have to admit, I didn’t anticipate these other changes… not that I am complaining.”

She nods, smiling, “I also noticed some very nice effects. Well, it’s pretty obvious that our eye colour changed to black — which looks _great_ by the way. And I also feel like my mind is a lot clearer now.”

“Oh, even more so than when you told me about your mental state in Azkaban?”, Sirius asks. The woman frowns.

Sirius notices immediately, “What is it? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. My problem is the source of my ‘insanity’,” she glowers dangerously at a mouse on one of the lower steps of the stairs.

Her cousins eyebrows lift at lightning speed. “The source? You mean, it wasn’t simply overexposure to dark magic? Or our family’s predisposition to madness?”

“Exactly. Some of my memories came back while I was sleeping… It took me a bit to properly piece them together.”

Sirius can't help the curiosity which must be blatantly obvious on his face right now. He always accepted it as a simple fact of life that Bella had slowly become more and more deranged during his time at Hogwarts. Shortly after his older cousin graduated, she joined the Dark Lord, and married Rodolphus Lestrange because of her parents’ expectations to continue their family’s pureblood line. At the time, Sirius himself was 11, and he never thought there could be another reason for his once-babysitter’s gradual worsening mental state than their family’s curse and the company she kept. 

“At first, I thought they just abandoned me in Azkaban —”

“Well, bad enough!”

“Yes, but guess what? The memories made me realize that the Dark Lord himself, as well as my _dear_ husband, are responsible for a great part of the deterioration of my mind,” Bella continues angrily. “The Dark Lord influenced me through Legilimency and used some sort of dark curse to weaponize me.” Her black eyes flash with barely contained anger while she does her best to keep it together and inform Sirius of what was done to her. “Their goal was to make me compliant, to help the Dark Lords agenda. They robbed me of my free will, my ability to make my own decisions. They whispered things into my mind, tortured me for years, and I thought that all of it was of my own doing.”

“ _They did what?_ ”, he exclaims shocked. “But you joined the Death Eaters willingly, why did they feel the need to manipulate you like this?”

“I’m not sure. I hate the feeling of knowing that my mind, my choices were altered like this. That is a hundred times worse than the Imperius Curse,” Bella says frustrated. “The curse made me feel like my mind was burning itself, but whenever I followed the Dark Lord’s orders or used dark magic it gave me relief. It made me a perfect servant and estranged me from all my former friends and associates but Rodolphus. I’m sure now, that he was in on it. That he even helped strengthen the curse whenever he thought it to be waning. He was such a loyal servant to Him,” she growls.

“I promise you, I will help you in any way I can to get your revenge,” Sirius says in a deadly tone of voice. “They had no right to do that to you. None at all.”

“Thank you. I am so glad that I got rid of their influence now. Somehow the Dementors had helped — they cooled the burning, if you know what I mean…”, Bella answers. “I am aware that I am still more unhinged than the average wizard, but now it’s ‘normal crazy’ instead of mind rape.”

The young man nods. “Me too. The ritual and the Black Madness must have created an interesting mix.”

“At least we are aware of it,” she tries to cheer herself up. Changing the topic Bella asks, “Are there any other changes you noticed after the ritual? Because I feel like your animagus form is different from before… bigger, more vicious looking and darker in colour.”

Accepting the change in topic Sirius jokes, “Well, maybe I _did_ finally turn into a Grim.” He grins.

“An omen of death?”, Bella raises an eyebrow. “Are you planning on haunting Britain’s churchyards from now on?” She smirks, “I see, you have great plans for your future.”

He childishly sticks out his tongue at her. “I’m sure Harry likes adventure. I could take him with me, and we’d scare the _poor_ muggles. It would be a fun game.” 

Bella laughs. “I can’t wait to meet the boy.” She tenderly looks at Sirius. “I know he means a lot to you and I will help you in any way I can to make sure he is safe.”

The man regards her curiously. “I never knew you to be someone who likes kids.”

“Well, I am eight years older than you and always put up with you,” she teases. “Additionally, Harry Potter is the child who is responsible for the demise of the monster who practically made me a slave, so I really am grateful to him.”

Later when the two fall into the bed again together, in which they slept the first time they arrived at the manor — and which was since then thoroughly cleaned by Kreacher (“Mistress Bella can’t enter the room until Kreacher makes it look worthy of her presence!”, the house-elf had screeched.) — and the lights are silently ordered to go out, Sirius turns to lie on his side. 

“You know, if you’d like to officially get a divorce I can accompany if you would like.” Sirius studies her in the dark. “Although it may be dangerous to go to the ministry and tell them the name which is on your marriage certificate… But whatever you chose to do, I’ve got your back.”

Bellatrix smiles at him, gratefully. “I’d really like to finally be free of all ties to that bastard! It’s worth every risk, and I trust that together we can defend ourselves pretty well.”

She pulls the covers higher and melts into the bed, contently, now that she for once has control over her own life, instead of being controlled by her family who made her marry a man she barely tolerated to keep their family’s bloodline pure, not by the Dark Lord nor by her captors in Azkaban.

“Goodnight Sirius.” She smiles into the darkness of the room.

“Goodnight,” he replies, glad that his cousin is feeling better but furious with those who did these vile things to Bella.

It is the second time that they are sleeping in the mansion and with an unspoken agreement they decided to keep using the same bedroom together. It made them feel safer, after all the wrongs that had been done to them. 

The cousins are connected closer than ever through the ritual and their mutual wish for revenge and a brighter future.


	5. Life Is Going On

**03\. January 1983 — 2am**

The ministry’s dimly lit halls are deserted when the Black cousins stealthily make their way towards the storage room for civil registry documents on level one of the building.

“This is great for the start, but you deserve actual revenge, Bella!”

“Shh!”, she chastises the fellow criminal, “We’re wanted for murder, I do _not_ want to get caught because of something innocuous such as this!”

Gaining entry at night had been easier than expected — once again they disguised themselves to look very different compared to their true appearances, and the ministry’s security measures are a joke compared to those of the manor. 

Even if there were similar surveillance instruments to the muggle’s security cameras in place, the only thing they’d record would be the Minister for Magic, Millicent Bagnold, and her assistant working late once again.

It hadn’t been easy to obtain some of Bagnold’s hair but Knockturn Alley does offer some great services and buying Polyjuice Potion was absolutely worth the risk and money if it enables Bella to finally break away from her association with the Death Eaters and her husband a bit further by getting a divorce.

Upon reaching their destination, the locked door was no obstacle for them (the wards were basically non-existent — after all, who would be interested in these papers?) but finding the section with the marriage certificates in the giant room was quite a challenge. 

“Hell, how hard could it be to find these damn documents?!”, Bella curses, irritated.

“I found the right shelf!”, Sirius calls some time later from the other side of the big room. “But I still don’t understand why there are no labels in here. It would make everyone’s job way easier,” he grumbles.

The witch hurries over and immediately starts looking for the name Lestrange on the labels of the alphabetically sorted records. “I’ve got it. Give me the lighter, Sirius.”

He quietly passes it over to his cousin and watches her light up and burn the document with the muggle device. Since the strange warding around the room makes it impossible to use magic inside while not seriously keeping anyone out who was determined to get in unauthorized (seriously who came up with this security concept??), she has to resort to muggle means to destroy the legal papers binding her to Rodolphus. Though Bella appreciates the symbolism of annulling their marriage with a tool invented by those her — now ex — husband actively took part in forcing her to torture.

Sirius watches her and can’t help but feel that it’s not enough. He sees the satisfaction in her eyes, which reflect the flames, but the anger about the way Bella has been manipulated and tortured for years boils hot in his mind and heart. 

If he gets one of them into his hands, he will make them regret everything they ever did to hurt the witch. These thoughts are much darker than they would have been before the ritual: instead of thinking rationally, all he can focus on is his want for the blood of those responsible. He doesn’t want the punishment to be something _harmless_ like he would have enforced in his former occupation as an Auror only 2 years ago — the blood ritual made him feel much more vengeful. 

The young man doesn't care that one of them is a literal _dark lord_ — while observing the happy expression on Bella’s face upon getting rid of the offending document, he promises to himself that he will protect her from everything that might cause her to suffer. 

Bella reaches inside the pocket of her winter cloak and produces divorce documents, complete with both of their signatures (forgery really isn't that hard if you’ve been married for 12 years). Sirius is listed as witness and it’s made legal by the use of the ministry’s official seal. No one bothers going through other people’s marriage certificates, so it shouldn’t be noticed that something was changed.

“Let’s go home,” he tells her softly. “We can’t risk being caught.”

That warning seems to have worked like a summoning since only seconds later the two hear heavy footsteps approaching in the corridor.

“Minister Bagnold? Is that you, madam?”, the wizard asks, confused and cautious, upon entering the room. Judging by his robes he seems to be a security guard making his rounds.

“Yes, me and my assistant were just checking something,” Bellatrix smiles politely at the man. “It’s been a long day, I should head home soon…”, she says.

“I can accompany you to the foyer, madam. I’ve heard some suspicious noises in this area of the building, that’s why I came here in the first place.”

Sirius interjects at that. “Thank you for the offer, but the Minister is a capable woman, I think you would be of more use patrolling level one and looking for possible intruders, don’t you agree, Millicent?”

Bella nods at that. “My assistant is quite right, it wouldn’t do to leave the corridors unsupervised. If you feel the need to call reinforcements from the auror department do so, but maybe it’s nothing — and to call a false alarm would be embarrassing, now wouldn’t it?”

With that she turns and walks back towards the ministry’s entrance, Sirius in tow, and highly conscious of every of her own movements and the speed of her breath, leaving the night guard behind. 

###

Back at the mansion (funny — they only stayed here for a few days and the huge house already feels like _home_. ‘How strange,’ Sirius thinks. ‘It’s been years since I felt at home in any house owned by the Blacks. It must be Bella’s company that has that effect.’ He smiles.) the two take a seat in the drawing room despite the late hour, still tense from the encounter with the guard but slowly relaxing and letting the joy of their successful adventure take over.

Bellatrix feels relief in a way she almost never has before (the exception being finally leaving Azkaban); she feels _free_ — to do as she wishes, to think as she wishes, to be who she wishes to be… With no one to control her ever again. 

It brings her a peace of mind which is unparalleled with her way of life. Or at least peace of mind by her standards. She is aware of what seems to be her own voice still whispering in the back of her mind — demanding action, adrenaline, the smell of blood, the thrill of dark magic, the exhilaration she felt while praying to the _ancient one_. That was an experience she would never ever be able to forget. Bella is highly aware of how addicting the rush could turn out to be if one succumbed to the temptation of regularly performing such a ritual. But she is familiar with rituals of such nature after all — has been since her childhood, so this isn’t such a huge point of worry in her book. 

So she opens a bottle of Ogden’s Old Firewhisky with her dear cousin and simply enjoys the feeling of happiness that flows through her. At one point Sirius gets up and gallantly asks her, “May I have this dance, Milady?” with a mock bow. Bella graciously accepts his invitation which turned out to be a fun but bad idea; the two sway through the drawing room for a few minutes but soon find themselves too affected by the alcohol and simply stand, hugging each other, and giggling madly. 

“Kreacher!”, Bella calls for the house elf. When the creature pops into the room, she orders while only slightly slurring, “We are celebrating — arrange some music for us, will you?”

The elf nods happily and returns seconds later with an old-fashioned muggle record player, surprisingly regarding Sirius with merely mild disdain. “Can Kreacher be of further service, Mistress Bella?”

“No, thank you, we’ll be alright for the moment. We are _having fun!_ ”, she giggles and tries to spin Sirius around which was complicated by their joined inebriation as well as the wizard’s much taller stature.

There is a carefree atmosphere in the old mansion that hasn’t been present in a long, long time.

But there is one thing which makes it impossible for Sirius to let loose completely — in the back of his mind he can’t stop the revenge fantasies playing out; of what he’d do to Dumbledore for abandoning him and betraying him like that. But he needs to pull himself together, there are other things he has to worry about first, especially about how to get to Harry as quickly as possible.

Bella notices, of course she does, that his thoughts are wandering into depressing directions again.

“Don’t overthink too much, Sirius. We’re going to get him, I promise you that. Harry will be safe.” She pushes one of his rebellious locks out of his face. “Let’s start looking for stronger locating spells tomorrow, alright? And when we’ve completely recovered we will retrieve him from wherever he currently is.”

Hesitantly, he nods, slightly more relaxed at Bella’s reassurances and lets himself be led to bed.

The next several days, the two can be found in the mansion’s huge library, poring over piles of old, thick tomes filled with the darkest spells in the Black’s arsenal to find a way to locate Sirius’ godson. 

It is a truly frustrating activity. Either the spells require something organic belonging to the wanted person, a few drops of blood, hair or even spit — which they don’t have and in addition to that no way to obtain these components — or they can only be performed by a close family member, which Harry doesn’t have any more.  
Sirius is aware that his and Bella’s grandfather’s sister Dorea married Harry’s grandfather Charlus Potter, so they do share some of the same blood — as almost all wizards from the old pureblood families do — but it won’t be enough. That particular spell is meant for parents looking for their small children should they be in danger, and not just for anyone.

“I think, I found the right spell,” he exclaims one afternoon. He had been on the brink of a fit of rage for being so unproductive but this finding fills him with renewed hope and positivity.

Bella stands up from the desk with her own pile of books and hurries over to him. “You're right, this might just be exactly what we were looking for! Let’s try it!”

And try they did. Over and over again, but it simply didn’t give them the results the spell was supposed to. 

“Mmh. He must be hidden behind extraordinarily strong wards, I have no other explanation…”, Bella mutters.

“That _damned_ Dumbledore!”, Sirius curses. “It must be his work, to _‘protect’_ the Boy Who Lived. It wouldn’t surprise me if the wards are less to keep Harry safe and more meant to keep him under the old man’s control.”

“Come on, Sirius,” the witch tries to calm him, “I know you are angry but if we want to find him, we cannot afford getting distracted.”

“How am I supposed to stay calm when Harry isn't here with us and I don't know if he's okay!”, the man rants. “I've spent too long already in that prison, I have to get him as quickly as possible! Who knows what's happened to him since that one night — It’s been years since I last saw him!”

Bella stays silent. What could she possibly tell her cousin, when all his worries are completely valid? Instead, she simply closes the distance between them and hugs Sirius.

That’s when she notices how right this feels. Their relationship is completely natural, born out of shared misery, and way more comfortable than the one between her and her friends among the Death Eaters or even with her ex-husband used to be. Despite the lousy circumstances she smiles. ‘Oh wait,’ she thinks suddenly, ‘How could I forget that this feeling of belonging isn't natural at all? Not that I'm complaining.’ She almost snorts. ‘I even told Sirius that the ritual would have this exact effect on us and now I almost forget about it myself? Damn, I’m getting old.’

Slowly she extracts herself from his arms again. “Alright. There might be another way to find Harry but I’m not quite sure about the details of the ritual any more… And I haven’t found it in any of the books we consulted.”

“Do you think that ‘magical consultant’ from Knockturn Alley could help us with it?”

“‘Magical consultant’?” This time she really snorts. “I’d rather call her an old bat who used dark magic one too many times and didn’t know her own limits. But yes, there is a possibility that she knows the ritual I have in mind.”

“Then let’s pay her a visit. Even if the chances are slim that she has any clue, it’s still better than this fruitless search here. I feel so useless just sitting around and reading!”

“You’re such a Gryffindor,” Bella teases. “But sure let’s go. Same glamour as last time?”

“I think it would be better to change it up a bit, we shouldn't take unnecessary risks.”

“Okay, wow, I take that Gryffindor comment back,” she shakes her head. “Such wise words.”

“Please be a bit more serious,” the wizard tells her, glowering. “You know how desperate I’m getting here.”

“Sorry,” she giggles, unaware of how fast her own mood seems to change.

###

The ‘old bat’, as Bella calls her, does actually not look old at all. Though you never know with magical people and creatures. 

She lives in a small flat in one of the many back alleys behind the more frequented Knockturn Alley, with all its shops and dubious clientele. The back alley is quiet and her front door is decorated with a simple plaque, _‘Ramona Twinkle, Magical Consultant’_.

“So,” she asks them upon opening the door, “what can I do for you?”

“We are looking for a powerful ritual which tracks a person even with wards in place around them,” Bella explains in a no-nonsense voice. “Do you perhaps know about it? You’re supposed to be an expert, or so we’ve heard.”

“Mmh. You'll need to give me a few more details, otherwise I won't be able to help you much.”

“The child we are searching for-”

“Come in, come in,” the woman interrupts Sirius and ushers them inside, “the streets are no place for this kind of discussion.”

Bella is both amazed and annoyed at once, at the way Twinkle is able to combine rudeness and politeness so effortlessly.

“You were right, she _is_ an old bat,” Sirius whispers to her, as they make their way inside the building.

They are led to a cramped living room, filled with hundreds of dusty books and only slightly less used tea cups. “Take a seat,” she says and gestures to a worn sofa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *facepalms* that embarrassing moment when you forget that there’s magic in the HP universe 
> 
> lmao I was too lazy to change the first part of this chapter, so I added the bit that there are anti-magic wards in the storage room, so they had to search muggle-style since they were prevented from using point-me-spells or similar to find the certificate
> 
> sorry by the way that it's so short (~2.5k), I've been working on this chapter for a while now and it was supposed to be much longer, I've got it all planned out already, but writer's block is a bitch and the rest of the chapter just _refused_ to be written....
> 
> i also feel like it's way more "low quality" compared to the other chapters I already published but yeah... I hope you enjoy it :')


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